Lone Wolf
by stormyskies73
Summary: AU from Old Oak Doors. Night Vale has fallen and StrexCorp reigns supreme. Many citizens are missing or dead, and most survivors have given up hope. From her tent in the sand wastes, 16 year old Haneet watches the destruction of her city. Determined to take down Strex, she enlists the help of some old friends, but do the Virals and lone wolf Han have what it takes? Viral!Ella.
1. Prologue

**I tried to refrain, but I just had to start posting! I'll be working on my other things too, but this has become my Big Thing.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Virals or WTNV. Wish I did, though. Maybe for Christmas... :)**

* * *

The night-time wind blows across the sand wastes of the Nevada desert, but there is no-one to notice it. No-one, that is, bar the young girl huddled in the patched-up tent. She crawls from her fabric shell and resists the urge to look up at the night sky - _mostly void, partially stars, _she remembers with a soft smile. It is not her phrase, not her memory, but it reminds her of what she's fighting for.

She isn't afraid of the void nor the stars. She fears almost nothing anymore, save the mysterious sunless planet that appears from time to time, a harbinger of doom. She wonders if it will appear now.

She removes her gun from its holster and shoots upwards. Once. Twice. Thrice. Listens carefully. She does not hear any impact, so risks a quick glance upwards. Her bullets travel farther here than they would in the 'real' world. Nothing. If there's anything at all out there, be it humanoid, animal, non-corporeal entity, sentient vegetable or enormous darkened world hanging just above our own, she has likely scared it off. For now, anyway.

She breathes a sigh of relief, violet eyes changing to a rich buttery yellow, and the haze of light surrounding her body shifts to match before both return to purple. She is always on edge, cannot afford to be caught off-guard.

IIt's a good thing there is no-one around to witness her. Her survival depends on her enemy not finding her, and the darkness has afforded her no camoflage since her accident.

She brushes thick dark hair off her unwashed face (it's been a while since she was able to bathe), wishing just for a moment she was normal again, before pushing the thought from her mind. _You are not normal, Han,_ she reminds herself sternly, _you are a Night Valean now, and God forbid you should want to be anything else._

Incoming text.

_Hey! I'm in Vegas! You still live in Nevada? Big place, but how far away is Night Vale? Meet up?_

She almost ignores it, but the sender was, once upon a time, one of her closest friends. They haven't spoken in years, but she's so very alone in her tent in the sand wastes, and so very hungry. She ate all her rations earlier in the week and hasn't had chance to stock up again.

And, although she hates to admit it, she needs allies.

She types out a reply before she can change her mind.

_Bring food and help._


	2. Chapter 1- The Girl in the Sand Wastes

**Hi! I don't know if anyone's reading this, but if you are it's great to meet you!**

**Challenge: over the course of the story, try and guess who the narrator is!**

**Disclaimer: NOT MINE!**

* * *

I'm sure you've all heard of the Virals, dear listeners - the crime-solving wolf-teens from Charleston, South Carolina. Victoria 'Tory' Brennan. Hiram 'Hi' Stolowitski. Benjamin 'Ben' Blue. Shelton Devers. Ella Francis. Cooper, the wolfdog that tied this ragtag band together, making them a pack.

What you perhaps don't know is that, before Tory joined the gang, and long before Ella found her way into their ranks, there was someone else. Someone quite, quite different...

* * *

"I still can't believe this!" Ella laughed as she and Tory began to unpack their cases. "Hi actually won one of those competitions!" One of the major TV networks had been running a contest. All you had to do to win a week-long trip to Vegas for you and four friends was answer a multiple-choice question. Hiram, being Hiram, had been unable to resist.

"That I can understand," Tory replied, "what I don't get is how on earth he persuaded his mom to let him go!"

"Let's just go with it." The conversation continued in this vein for some time, before Shelton burst in, waving his iPhone and trailed by Hi and Ben.

"Han's in trouble!" He yelled!

"Who's Han?" Asked Tory.

The boys shifted awkwardly. "Haneet Dhillon." Hi said. "She was you before you were you."

"Her dad was a security guard at LIRI," Ben continued, "so we saw a lot of her. She had two brothers but they were never really that close with us."

"Han was awesome." Shelton added shakily, "Then when she was eleven her grandpa got sick. The Dhillons upped sticks and moved to Nevada to take care of him."

"Night Something." Hi shrugged. "I forgot where exactly she went."

"Night Vale." supplied Ben. "The city that Google Earth doesn't recognise as existing. Doesn't appear on any maps."

"We lost touch after a while," Hi went on, "but since we're in the same state Shelton figured he should try to find out how far apart we are."

"All she said in reply was this: 'bring food and help.'" Shelton finished.

"Well, Virals," Tory stopped unpacking and began shoving whatever she could find back into the case, "I think our mission is clear."

Ella smiled at being referred to as a Viral. Although she hadn't been around when the others got infected, her blood had mixed with Ben's when one particular adventure had gone bad. She was finally one of them.

"Shelton, text her back and ask for coordinates. Then go repack. We're going to Night Vale."

* * *

Two hours later, the Virals piled into the rental car (provided by the network, Hi remembered smugly. Thank God he hadn't listened when the others had tried to tell him he'd never win anything) with the food Ella and Ben had bought and set out on their quest. They'd never actually been to Night Vale, of course - didn't know a thing about it. They didn't realise quite what awaited them in that shadowy place where reality and nightmares intersected. All they knew was that Haneet needed help, and they were going to help her if it killed them. Which, in Night Vale, was a very real possibility...

Because the Haneet they would find there was not the girl who had left them behind so many years ago.

* * *

"Here we are..." Shelton, the navigator, announced doubtfully at the end of a very long drive as the gang stepped out of the car. Nevada was a big place, and 'Night Vale' and Las Vegas weren't exactly next-door neighbours. _'Welcome to the Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area!' _proclaimed a newly-erected yet already dented yellow sign (with three bullet holes in it obliterating an emblem of some kind) in glaring orange letters. Someone had crossed out the name of the city in violet spray paint and scrawled _'NIGHT VALE' _in its place, along with a peculiar symbol. The shape was easily recognisable as an eye, but instead of a pupil a stylised crescent moon stared out at the pack impassively.

"Here you are." echoed a solemn voice from behind them.

The speaker was about five foot five with coffee-coloured skin and choppy shoulder-length dark hair framing her lightly-scarred, slightly grimy face. She couldn't have been older than sixteen. She wore a black tank top with torn, faded denim cutoffs stained with dirt and what might have been blood, and there was a gun strapped to her left thigh. She carried a large red and black hiking backpack, and around one arm she wore a black armband with the eye-moon from the sign stitched onto it. Her most striking feature, however, was her eyes. Instead of the soft brown irises the boys had been expecting to see shining in the sockets of their childhood friend, faintly-glowing indigo orbs held their startled gazes. As they watched, a flicker of yellow passed through them before disappearing. "You gonna introduce your friends?"

"Tory, Ella, this is Haneet Dhillon. Han, Victoria Brennan and Ella Francis." Ben replied.

"Hey." Han greeted the other girls, who waved back, slightly shocked. "What are you all staring at?" She demanded, eyes flickering to orange.

"What's up with your eyes?" asked Hiram, ever the tactless one.

"Oh, that," she waved a hand dismissively, "I'd forgotten you'd find that weird. Round these parts it's kinda normal. I got myself a summer job at the radio station a couple years back. I know, I know, being an NVCR intern's dangerous and all, but I loved it! Then I got lost in Radon Canyon. I was pretty much fine - I only absorbed a tiny amount - but the radiation left its mark." She sighed. "Now my eyes change colour with my mood and I glow in the dark. I'm lucky. Most interns die within a couple days on the job." The Virals were still a little stunned. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you don't have anything freaky to talk about." Her time in Night Vale had had an effect on her world view. Although she could talk about 'normal', she could no longer comprehend the outsider definition of the word.

The Virals looked around at each other, one question on their collective minds. _Should we tell her?_

"Last year the guys and I got infected with a hybrid version of canine parvovirus," Tory began, "and it seriously messed up our DNA. Ella caught it a few months back."

"We're part-wolf now." Ben added.

Ella explained the powers to a remarkably unfazed Han. "When we flare - that's our word for activating our doggy genes - we develop enhanced strength, speed and senses."

"Our eyes glow gold, so you'll be in good company there." The other Virals glared at Hi. Han just laughed.

"Neat!" The glimmer of saffron from earlier returned to her irises. "Now for the important stuff. Did you bring food? I'm starving!"

_Wow, _thought Shelton numbly, _she grew up hot._

* * *

Hi, Ella and Shelton had eaten most of the supplies on the way, but there was still enough for Han not to die of starvation.

"Thank the Glow Cloud for you guys." she said through a mouthful of Pringles. "StrexCorp just stepped up their search for me and half the city's succumbed to the brainwashing, including most of the Sheriff's Secret Police. It's been really hard to get supplies out lately."

"Sooo...what's wrong?" Han seemed to expect Ben and the others to understand, but her world already seemed alien to them.

"Nothing. Just, y'know, _everything._" Her eyes flashed crimson.


	3. Chapter 2- A Trick of the Light

**New chapter!**

**Disclaimer: My name is neither Kathy Reichs, Brendan Reichs, Joseph Fink nor Jeffrey Cranor. Therefore, I don't own anything here except Han and the story.**

* * *

"I should start at the beginning. For...well, for as long as anyone can remember, really, Night Vale and Desert Bluffs - that's the nearest city- have been enemies. Got that?" The Virals nodded. "Desert Bluffs is owned by this huge company, StrexCorp Synernists Incorporated. A few months ago they bought out every business in town."

"So this is all just about some corporate takeover?" Asked Tory. _I thought she was in real danger!_

"Not exactly." Han replied. "You see, Strex isn't like most corporations. Ever been to Desert Bluffs?" Negatives all round."Good, but if you were to visit, you'd see the danger we're all in. Everyone goes around with these...these...these expressions they think are smiles but aren't." She demonstrated as best she could and was met with a chorus of screams, groans and one sob. Coop whimpered and pressed himself into Tory's leg. "Exactly. And they all seem incapable of feeling anything other than this emotion they think is happiness but really isn't. It's hard to explain. But the point is, they've all been brainwashed into becoming chipper, productive worker-drones, in some cases without eyes." She shuddered. "The whole place is basically _dripping in blood_, and the Bluffsmen seem to _like it that way._ It's horrible, and now they've taken Night Vale."

"And no-one's resisting?"

"We tried, Hiram." For a moment, the red fire faded from Haneet's eyes to be replaced by the deep indigo blue of sadness. "The whole city fought back against them, but there were too many. They defeated us easily. That's when things went from bad to really, really bad."

She went on with her tale. "First thing they did was lock up Tamika Flynn and her book club militia. At least, I think they're locked up. No-one's really sure what happened to them. They were the best defence we had, and true heroes. That was what broke our spirit initially. Then they regained control of NVCR. One day I just showed up and I knew something was wrong, I could feel it. Cecil wasn't there and Kevin was and that was that."

"Who are these people?" Ben had never had much patience for people he didn't know.

"Cecil Palmer was - _is_" she corrected herself, "the Voice of Night Vale, although that means nothing to you, of course. It's a job somewhere between 'radio host', 'spokesentity' and 'high priest of the Glow Cloud'. Kevin L'Heureux is basically the Desert Bluffs version."

"But people get replaced all the time." Hi scratched his head,not getting it.

"Being the Voice isn't that kind of a job. It's prophesied. Until the next Voice - the Chosen One, if you like - turns twenty (around which time their successor-to-be is born), the only entities that know they're the Chosen One are Station Management (whatever they actually are), the current Voice, and the next Voice's parents, who are told when the kid turns five. They'd take over at twenty-five. The next Voice would be about our age now, and potentially old enough to replace Cecil in an emergency situation like this one, so logic would dictate that when Kevin took over someone would complain and say that their kid should be the new Voice. But no-one did, so we all just assumed that was it. A new Voice hadn't been prophesied. And the only way that could happen would be if there was to be no more Night Vale." She sighed shakily, gazing at the ground. "After that, most people stopped resisting. Those who refused left as soon as they could, or else tried to play along."

Shelton felt his heart start to sink. "Which camp do your parents fall into?"

"They took Sanjay and moved to Rachel." She shrugged. "Ravi was still at college at the time, so it didn't really affect him."

"And what about you?" Tory asked.

"I quit my job at the station, stole some equipment, bought a gun and set up camp here."

"Here?"

"The sand wastes." She twirled like a little girl pretending to be a ballerina. "This is my kingdom!"

Her bitter laughter died away as the area around them began to steadily increase in brightness.

"Is that you?" asked Ella.

"No!" Han drew her weapon. "I...this hasn't happened since the doors were last opened! It's gotta be Strex!" She turned and fired blindly. It was almost impossible to see, partly because of the brilliant, terrible light and partly because their surroundings were beginning to turn translucent. "Get in the car!" She yelled. "Now! Drive!"

"Where to?" Ben screamed back from behind the wheel.

"Anywhere! I've got everything I need right here!"

"The nearest motel." Tory sounded so much calmer than she felt. "It'll give her a chance to get cleaned up." Together, they sped out of the light.

* * *

The young vigilante relaxed as she felt the warm water from the shower drumming over her skin and hair, watching as it swirled around her feet before draining away, stained with the beige of sand and dust and the rusty colour of dried blood - hers, theirs, it didn't matter anymore. For the first time since the battle, she began to relax.

Then she remembered. The light, so close to her beloved Night Vale. So very close. The Smiling God...

She had to fight.

She had to fight, but she couldn't do it alone.

No.

And soon, dear listeners, she would have to tell the others what she had become.

How she dreaded that moment.

* * *

**A note about Kevin: I don't know if his last name was ever mentioned in the show, and I didn't want to make it 'Free' like the voice actor, so I tried to think of an idea of my own and came up with 'L'Heureux'. If you don't like it, you could always mentally change it?**

**A note about the Voice prophecy: my personal headcanon. It's been mentioned that Cecil becoming the Voice was prophesied from the age of 5, but in 'Cassettes' his younger self seems totally unaware. I figured my explanation sort of made sense. **


	4. Chapter 3- Radio StrexCorp

**This chapter guest-stars Kevin and Lauren. Now is the time to run screaming.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Virals, Ten and Hila would be canon by now. If I owned WTNV, Carlos would be home... None of the above has happened yet. I think this says a lot about who owns this stuff.**

* * *

Han would have preferred to wear something else from her bag, but when she stepped out of the shower she saw Ella had helpfully laid out a pale orange sundress she'd had no intention of wearing herself and strappy brown leather sandals for her. _Ick. _She wouldn't be able to run in the shoes, and the dress looked unsettlingly like something that could be purchased in Desert Bluffs. Still, she put it on - it _was_ comfortable, she had to admit, even if it wasn't exactly her style (what _was_ her style? Did she _have_ a style?) - but chose to go barefoot for convenience.

"What time is it?" she asked, entering the room she'd rented with the other girls for the night and dropping the shoes on the floor.

"Almost seven." replied Shelton.

_It's time. _"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out," she repeated, "there's something I have to do." She began rummaging through her backpack, pulling out items the Virals didn't know the purpose of and that seemed far too large to have fitted in. "Go!"

* * *

Cast out and stuck in the boys' room with nowhere else to go,the five outsiders remained in awkward silence a moment.

"What do we do now?" Tory scratched behind her wolfdog's ears absently.

"There's always the radio." Ben shrugged. It is worth noting, dear listeners, that out of the five he was the only one who actually liked the radio.

_'The sun is pleasantly warm, the moon is just _breathtaking_, and it's a perfect day to be productive! Welcome to the Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area!_' declared a cheery male voice over the airwaves.

"Turn it off!" whined Ella.

"I'm trying!" The device wouldn't shut up. Not even when Hi tried to give it to Coop as a chew toy.

_**'Indeed, Kevin!' **_chirruped a very annoying woman.

_'Listeners, we have a _very _special guest in the studio today! Once again, the one and only Lauren Mallard is taking time out from her _very important _duties at StrexCorp to come and talk to _you!'

_StrexCorp._ That was the organization that Han had warned them about!

_**'It's a pleasure, Kevin! StrexCorp always wants to know how its workers are doing, what they're listening to, and whether their news has any...anomalous opinions!'**_

_'Exactly, Lauren! But I'm afraid we have to start today's broadcast with some distressing news!'_

_'__**Oh, dear!'**_

_'Wanted murderer Haneet Dhillon, whose unproductive hands are stained with the blood of loyal StrexCorp employees, is no longer in the sand wastes-'_

There was a crackling, staticky sound, before a very familiar voice broke through.

**'Of course I'm not! I'm not that stupid! And I'm not a murderer, I'm a vigilante. Do your research.'**

More static, then Lauren was heard again.

_**'..hope they find her soon!'**_

_'They will. At StrexCorp, we find _everything we look for!_'_

**'Is that a threat?'**

It was obvious to the Virals that Kevin and Lauren couldn't hear Han.

_'...in more uplifting news, the Company Picnic is still going strong! Everyone's still there, and having such a great time! They wouldn't want to leave even if they could!'_

_**'That's wonderful, Kevin!'**_

You could practically _hear _the exclamation marks.

The broadcast went on like that for a while, with Kevin talking about productivity and making veiled threats on behalf of Strex against those who didn't do as much work as they apparently should, Lauren chiming in with little asides and blatant propaganda, and Han hacking the signal to broadcast her own side of the story.

_'And now-'_

_**'Ooooh! Is this going to be what I think it is?'**_

_'I think so, Lauren! A word from our sponsors...StrexCorp!'_

**'Yay.' **Han muttered sarcastically.

_'Look around you: Strex.'_

_Look inside you: Strex._

_Go to sleep: Strex._

_Believe in a smiling god._

_StrexCorp. It is everything.'_

Tory felt a cold shiver run down her spine in spite of the hot desert sun, and not even Han's little add-on comments or Hi's pitch-perfect Kevin impression during the 'weather' - which turned out to be a musical interlude rather than any actual forecasting - could dispel it.

* * *

_'Sadly, that brings us to the end of our show, but don't feel bad! We'll be right here tomorrow-'_

**'As will I.'**

_**'...it's been such a pleasure to work with you today, Kevin!'**_

_'You too, Lauren! Until next time, Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area!'_

"Thank God!" Ella sighed.

"Did we have to listen to that crap?" Shelton added.

Ben stamped on the radio - untouched by Cooper - and tried to crush it beneath his shoe.

They trooped back to Han's not-really-a-studio.

"What was all that about?" Demanded Tory. "The murderer thing?"

"You listened to the broadcast." It wasn't a question. It was a statement; flat, lifeless, almost sheepish, accompanied by a shift in her eyes from yellow with a hint of red ringing the pupils to deep, melancholy indigo. Nothing like something that would come out of the mouth of the Haneet Dhillon of earlier in the day, and even less like any sentence uttered by Radio Han.

"Yup."

"Is it true?" Shelton didn't want to believe it. He wanted to imagine it was simply propaganda from the mysterious StrexCorp, that it wasn't anything to take seriously. He couldn't quite manage it.

"In a way." Silence. "Look, like I said, I'm _not_ a murderer. Do you think I want this life? I've only killed five-point-five people, and most of them were already dead inside. I never killed anyone who didn't provoke me first. I don't kill people who don't need killing. _I don't want to be that person._"

"Then what do you want?"

"I want them to fear me." The red colour returned to her irises, forcing the sadness out almost entirely. "I want them to dread meeting me to the extent they get the hell out of Night Vale."

"Well, it sounds like they do."

"They don't, Hiram. They despise me, they're embarrassed by me, they want me gone, but I don't scare them one tiny bit. Everyone in the 'Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area' listens to the radio. Most of them believe the corporation's lies. _They_ might fear me, and they probably hate me, and that means they'll do anything Strex tells them. That's why I can't get back into the city. They'll kill me."

"Is there anything we can do?" Ella placed a sympathetic hand on Han's shoulder. She wasn't sure she could trust her, and her methods were questionable to say the least, but her life was in danger, and she seemed to have a good reason. After all, after enduring an installment of _Welcome to the Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area! _she could understand why her new companion hated Strex so much (especially if, as she suspected, that wasn't even the worst of it).

"I was hoping you'd say that." A glimmer of gold broke through her anger. "Join me."


	5. Chapter 4- Ambition

**Disclaimer: How I wish I owned Virals and WTNV.**

**Disclaimer 2: I apologise profusely for any inaccuracies.**

* * *

"What?" The Virals stared at Han, shocked.

"Join me." she repeated calmly, eyes shining a tranquil aquamarine. "C'mon, I can't do this alone!"

"But you...you..."

"Kill people?" The blue disappeared for a moment, replaced by the ruby-red of irritation. "Shelton, if I could change the world with my voice, don't you think I would? Why do you think I hack into the DBRI signal all the time? Okay, I guess it's partly cos Kevin makes me sick, but mostly because I still hold out some hope that maybe I can undo whatever StrexCorp did to my home without having to use either of my guns." _Either?_, Shelton thought, slightly panicked. He'd only ever seen one: the handgun strapped to her thigh. "Maybe if there's seven of us I won't have to."

"Six teenagers and a dog can't take down a corporation big enough to buy out two whole cities and have its own radio show." Hi countered. "That's crazy."

"Even if five of them have superpowers, the dog is half-feral and the one left over has had a lot of time to work on her aim?"

"Even if."

"That doesn't mean we can't try." Ella said defiantly. "Something is very wrong here and I, personally, feel we should do everything in our power to make it right."

"One entity is not a rebellion. Seven might just be enough to form the basis for one." Han added.

"I'm in." Ben shrugged.

"Me too." Tory agreed. "Han's in danger, and even if we can't save Night Vale we can at least save her."

Hi and Shelton looked at each other, then at the group the former would later nickname the Rebel Alliance, then back to each other.

"I'll do it," Hi sighed, "as long as I never have to listen to The Kevin And Lauren Show again."

"Deal." Han smiled.

"I'm gonna die here." Shelton muttered, miserably. "I'm gonna die in the middle of the Nevada Desert on the outskirts of a town that doesn't officially exist, fighting against an evil organisation that also doesn't officially exist."

"That's the spirit! Nothing really exists anyway."

* * *

And so, listeners, it came to be that Haneet Dhillon joined the Virals - or, more accurately, the Virals joined Haneet Dhillon - to make one last, glorious, stand for her beloved Night Vale. Tory, Hi, Ben, Shelton, Ella, Han and Coop. The Magnificent Seven. Or, alternatively, despicable criminals. It all depended on whether or not they won, really.

* * *

"Hi, did the TV people leave a number?" Tory asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, call and ask if they'll pay for this place rather than the hotel in Vegas." She knew they wouldn't be able to leave Night Vale now they'd committed themselves to Han's cause.

"Ella, Ben, can you go get more food and bullets? I'm running low." Han paused, then added: "Oh, and I'll need purple and white thread and some black material."

"And what am I doing?" Whatever it was, Shelton was certain it would be unpleasant and most likely dangerous.

"Research." Tory decided after a long pause during which she and Han had both realised they didn't have a clue and had therefore mostly just said 'um'.

Han looked around the unimpressive room at her newfound allies. _This is really happening, _she thought, elated, _we're going to take down Strex. Together._

* * *

By the end of the day, they'd acquired more supplies and Han and Ella had fashioned five duplicates of the armband Han wore with pride. Shelton's research had hit a dead end, with the Google home screen being replaced by an image of an orange triangle on a featureless, sterile white background as the message from the radio scrolled across it ominously, shortly followed by his laptop exploding - but hey, you can't have everything. (Han winced at his shouts of anguish before attempting to placate her old friend by informing him that, whilst the StrexCorp thing was definitely new, exploding technology was a typical Night Valean event and really, it was only to be expected when you Google something you shouldn't know about. It didn't help.)

Pretty soon, night fell. The boys trekked back to their own room, and Tory and Ella hit the sack.

Han, however, stayed awake. Ignoring the protests of her brain, telling her it was safer for everyone if she stayed indoors, she made her way outside. The moon and stars hung suspended in the void above her as she sat on the dusty ground, illuminated in her own pool of light, a muddle of yellow, violet and indigo.

She didn't register the presence beside her for a few moments.

"What's with the glowing?" At the sound of her companion's voice, Han had a minor heart attack, cursing herself for letting her guard down. It was only Shelton, though. She could trust Shelton. Probably.

"Bioluminescence." She shrugged. "From the radiation. I'm used to it by now."

"...It's...really pretty..." He replied awkwardly.

"...Thanks..." Han's response wasn't any smoother.

They sat in silence for a few minutes after that - not companionable silence; the kind of silence that falls when neither party is really sure what to say to the other.

"What are you doing up?" Haneet asked, trying to restart the conversation.

"Couldn't sleep." Shelton didn't need to elaborate. She understood. "You?"

"Same." Han sighed. "You see that light over there?" She pointed off into the distance at what looked to be a patch of midday in the blanket of darkness.

"What is it?"

"The Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area." There was no trace of venom in her tone for once, merely sadness. "When Strex took over, the sun just...stopped setting."

"That's not possible." Her friend scoffed.

"Maybe not in Charleston."

"How can the sun stop setting without anywhere else noticing?"

"I don't know. I'd ask Carlos, but he's...missing." Missing. That would make more sense than 'trapped in a bizarre alternate desert dimension' to an outsider, even if the reality of the situation was perfectly simple to a Night Vale resident, even a non-native like Haneet. "Maybe they don't even have a sun anymore. Maybe it's something else."

"Like what?"

"The Smiling God."

"The _what?_" Shelton remembered hearing something about it on the radio, but it didn't make sense in context. It seemed sinister and cult-like, sure, but not something that could cause something like this to happen.

"The Smiling God. It's not as benevolent as it sounds." She sighed heavily, eyes still fixed on the light on the horizon. "Y'know, I've been told my whole life that light is good and darkness is bad, and that the light will always defeat the dark; that's sort of why we have Diwali. But this light, it's not good or wholesome or safe or pure, and it's like everything I've ever known is backwards. For a while I didn't even know what think." The last traces of gold faded from her aura of light, replaced by scarlet. Even that quickly dissipated, along with the deep purple of fear. "Everything's messed up." Only sadness was left, and her voice cracked.

_Okay, Shelton, there's a beautiful girl sat next to you on the verge of tears. Do something, man!, _yelled the voice in the back of his mind. (It is worth noting that the voice in the back of Shelton's mind sounded a lot like Hiram Stolowitski.)

"Umm..." _Yeah. Real cool, bro. _"What would you be doing right now if there was no StrexCorp?" _That could work, I guess. Or maybe it'll just make her cry even harder than if you'd said nothing._

"Well, Cecil's show would have finished by now, and there's nothing on after that, so normally what I do is I stay behind to sort everything out for tomorrow- usually Intern Damien can't be bothered, Intern Maureen has other things to do and any other interns are too dead to be of any use to anyone. When I go in in the mornings I pack a sandwich, so I'd eat that to avoid going home and listening to Sanjay whining." Han had never gotten along with her little brother. "I'd throw part of it down the bottomless pit in the break room on the off-chance Intern Leland's still alive down there and needs food, then go back to the booth, check the mic-" she stopped. "Never mind."

"Go on."

"No!" She blushed. "It's too embarrassing!"

"I won't tell anyone, I swear."

"Okay. You know how little kids decide they're going to be a singer or a vet or a police officer or a hooded figure when they grow up, so they go off and make believe they already are?"

"Yeah..." Shelton wasn't too sure about the 'hooded figure' part, but decided not to think about it too hard.

"I...I do that!" Han pulled her knees up so she was curled into a small glowing ball and concentrated very hard on being made out of void.

"You do what?" Shelton laughed.

Internally, Han swore. Clearly it hadn't worked and she was still made up of meat and blood. Her humiliation was still plain to see. "I knew I shouldn't have told you!"

_Nice work, dumbass, _Shelton said to himself, _now she thinks you think she's an idiot. _"I didn't mean it like that!" He backpedaled frantically. "I just meant..."

"I know what you meant. It's a stupid dream anyway. It'll never happen."

"Han, working in radio isn't a stupid dream. And who says you can't do it? I'd rather listen to you than Kevin or Lauren!"

"I don't just want a job in radio, though, Shelton; that's the problem." she said miserably. "I've never actually told anyone this before, but...I want to be the Voice of Night Vale. Now shut up and leave me alone!"

"You _are_ the Voice of Night Vale."

"_What?_" Han turned to stare at Shelton, who hadn't shut up or left her alone. "That's the craziest thing I've ever heard. Next thing I know you'll be telling me mountains are a thing!"

"They are."

"See? You've lost it!" _Huh?_

"What I mean is, without Cecil the city's stuck with those two creeps, right?"

"Right."

"Well, you said that's part of the reason why people started giving up. They had no alternative but to be silent. They get their opinions from StrexCorp, period."

"This makes me feel so much better."

"Just listen. Strex tried to take control of the whole city, but you fought back, Haneet. You started disrupting their broadcasts, trying to let people know StrexCorp wasn't their only option. You actually _care_ about Night Vale, and that's more than can be said for Kevin."

"So you're saying-"

"Even if you're not supposed to be the Voice, you're the closest thing they have."

Han smiled a little at that. "You know what? You might just be right."

"And like I said, you're better than Lauren or Kevin."

"Anyone is better than Kevin, and Lauren's not even a professional! She's completely irrelevant!" An idea struck her. "Shelton?"

"Yeah?"

"Wanna help do a radio show?" The air around her shimmered from indigo to buttercup yellow and the occasional mist of purple.

"_You_...want _me..._to-"

"Sure." She continued. "There's something I've noticed about DBRI. _Welcome to the Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area!_ broadcasts from our station rather than the one in Desert Bluffs, but it doesn't use the same frequency. Everything else works, _except_ that show. Then all you hear is static."

"So..."

"_So, _maybe whatever phenomenon is causing this can be overridden somehow, and everyone knows the old frequency. I have equipment of a sort, and everything else I'd need is on my phone..."

"Then we're in business."

* * *

Diego had never seen the Dhillon girl as a threat, more like an inconvenience. Flynn and her little militia had been a threat. Palmer very nearly became a threat. But Dhillon? Just a little girl meddling in affairs she didn't understand. No, not a threat.

Flynn had only been classified as a threat because of the bookish army she commanded. Dhillon had nothing of the sort.

Until now.

He didn't have the names of her little friends yet.

But he would.

Dhillon's perseverance and bravery were admirable, but she could not outrun a Smiling God.


	6. Chapter 5- Not Bad For a First Attempt

**Merry Christmas!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Virals. Nor do I own WTNV. All I own is a cardigan my mum thinks resembles tentacles. So yeah.**

* * *

_'Hey, Night Vale! Do you miss the good old days of community radio? Back when the traffic reports made no sense? When we didn't have a clue what was going on in the area but knew about our host's personal life in minute detail? When the most-overused word was 'void' and not 'StrexCorp'? When our community calendar was less 'work' and more 'rescheduled'? When we hailed a very real Glow Cloud instead of a possibly imaginary Smiling God? When you didn't feel like you were trapped inside that song from the LEGO movie? Yeah, me too. Tune into NVCR tomorrow at seven if you want to hear about things that actually matter. See you there!'_

Han grimaced as soon as she finished saying it. It sounded crap, but it had been broadcast now; there wasn't a lot she could do about it. She'd patched herself in during a particularly propaganda-heavy segment of _Welcome to the Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area! _(she still couldn't work out how anyone could possibly find that catchy), but there was no guarantee anyone would really listen. (To be honest, she thought denouncing the Smiling God might have been a mistake - there was definitely _something_ malevolent lurking in the eternal daylight of the desert dimension - but then again, she knew it would rile StrexCorp, and that could only be a good thing. Unless they tried to kill her over it.)

* * *

"So now what?" asked Ben, leaning against the doorframe.

"I don't really know." Han admitted. "I guess I'll just wait and see."

"You need help?"

"I don't know that either."

"No offense, Han," Hi began, "but have you not learnt anything at all from your job?"

"My job mainly consisted of making coffee, listening to pointless trivia about Carlos the Scientist - whose favourite colour is apparently carmine - and trying not to die!" she shot back. "Forgive me for not knowing a few insignificant little details!"

"Should I go get coffee?" Tory offered, trying to stop her from actually ripping her packmate's head off. She wasn't feeling too peaceful herself, given that they'd pretty much not left the premises in at least 24 hours. Being cooped up with the same five people was trying everyone's patience.

"Please."

* * *

"Why exactly are we here?" Tory and Ben stood outside the girls' room the following day with Cooper and a rifle produced from Han's seemingly bottomless backpack.

"I don't trust these Strex people and neither does she." the redhead replied. "There's a strong chance, given everything they've said about her and everything she's doing, that someone will come after her. She's pack now. I think we should look out for her."

Ben sighed. _She's gotten way too into this revolutionary thing, _he thought.

* * *

Whilst the two more intimidating Virals (despite Han's protestations) waited for a threat that might never come, and Shelton waited for Han to indicate whether she needed anything, Hi and Ella waited in the boys' room for something interesting to happen.

"We're alone..."

"No chance, Stolowitski." Ella fiddled with the small radio that neither could remember seeing five minutes previously until she found what she was looking for. "This is neither the time nor the place.

_'The Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area is a lie. Welcome to Night Vale.'_

* * *

_'Listeners - if there _is _anyone listening - I need you to think about StrexCorp. If you have managed to escape the brainwashing, then don't just hide away. Stand up and be counted. And those who are already lost - if any of you are receiving this emergency broadcast - I need you to think long and hard about your life choices. _

_You now work for an organisation that decorates with animal viscera, and okay, our old City Council wasn't all that polite, but it was _never _this bad. And have you forgotten that it was their StrexPet that attacked our station pet, Khoshekh? He only wanted to protect his owner.' _This was the difficult part. _'Have you forgotten that Strex is responsible for the capture,detainment, and Glow-Cloud-knows-what-else of a group of children and teenagers trying to defend their home? And have we forgotten that it is, technically, StrexCorp's fault that Carlos is, as far as I know, still trapped in the desert otherworld?' _Breathe in. Breathe out. _'Listeners, they are the reason that I am talking to you today. You might not recognise my voice; some of you will have registered that I am _not _Cecil Gershwin Palmer, others that I am not Kevin from Desert Bluffs - who still suck, by the way - and a few of you may have guessed that I'm probably not broadcasting from the radio station given that Kevin is there. All of you are right.'_

Shelton couldn't recall seeing Han as calm as she now was. Her surroundings were hardly ideal, and her equipment looked like it had seen better days, but she looked at home as she poured her heart out into the void. When she'd simply been patching herself through over corporate propaganda she'd been angry, mocking. Now, though, she was nothing even remotely close to that.  
Of course, she was thinking about what to say, given she was working without a script, but she never tripped over her words like he would, never hesitated for more than a heartbeat. Every breath was measured, even if she was a little choked up and not quite as professional as he knew she would have liked.  
If he allowed himself to lose focus the words almost disappeared entirely until it was just Han and her voice, but somehow they still penetrated his mind. And in her voice he heard echoes of something he couldn't quite place. This was _exactly_ where she belonged_._

_'My name is Haneet Dhillon, Han for short, and I am speaking to you from a top-secret location. I am sixteen years old and before Strex took over I worked for NVCR. Now I...I don't want to talk about what I do now. Let's just say it doesn't pay too well and isn't as fun. It's not what I wanted to do, but this is, so I am doing it now.' _Don't ramble. _'My friend Shelton says that, with Cecil wherever the hell he is and my constant interrupting of Kevin's pathetic attempts to convince us that StrexCorp Is Everything, _I _am now the Voice of Night Vale, but I'm not quite sure I believe him just yet. Listeners, do not think of me as the Voice of Night Vale, because I'm not. Cecil is, and since we have no proof that he is dead we should assume he is alive and, by rights, still holding the title. But since he is not actually _here, _our city has, in a way, had her vocal chords ripped out. I am not the Voice. I am...I am esophageal speech, but I guess it will have to do.'_

She looked over at Shelton. He nodded. It didn't flow so well, but it was probably an accurate metaphor.

_'In other news, I have an update on Telly the barber. Remember him?' _Her companion did a double-take. How was that relevant? _'For those of you new to the area, or who have forgotten, he was last seen wandering the sand wastes giving free haircuts to cacti and howling up at the void, sentenced to eternal mental torment as punishment for cutting _Carlos's _hair. Personally, I didn't think it looked that bad, but given Cecil's mood at the time I didn't want to be the one to argue with his decision to incite mob violence lest I be thrown to Station Management.' _Since when had Haneet Dhillon used words like 'lest'? _'Listeners, Telly is _no longer _giving cacti free haircuts. The rate is now $63, which we can all agree is ridiculously expensive and pretty much completely random, and when his clients don't pay up (I mean, they are mostly non-sentient cacti, after all) he starts yelling at them._ _During my stay out there I found myself with split ends, and you know how it is, I was desperate, he was available, we were both out wandering the sand wastes...things just went from there. Now I have the worst haircut in history - insanity tends to throw off your game - and almost no money. And I hadn't had enough to start with, so now I owe him $18 and I think he wants to kill me over it. For some reason, everyone wants to kill me this week.'_

Perhaps it would be easier for Shelton not to listen.

_'Back to our main story. StrexCorp _is not what you think! _It doesn't serve your interests, just the morons running it and possibly the Smiling God. When the light entered our dimension from the desert otherworld it wasn't as wonderful as stupid Kevin made it out to be. It was the beginning of the apocalypse, according to John Peters - you know, the farmer? - and that is _not good! _And, honestly, do you really want a free pig's lung free with whatever purchase you make?'_

* * *

Han carried on like that for a while, alternating between pointless bulletins and the dire warning, before announcing the weather and playing 'Sing' by My Chemical Romance off her phone. Shelton opened his mouth to speak, but she shushed him, mouthing _I'm on air. _Of course. Everything she was doing was being broadcast live.

_You're doing great, _he mouthed back.

They kept up their silent conversation as best they could for the rest of the song.

* * *

_Listeners, Night Vale has been around since...a really long time ago, even though time isn't really a thing. And in all that metaphorical time we have always stood up for what we believed, except if that belief was in something dumb like mountains, or if it would result in re-education. But here we are, facing an evil worse than any of the forces that previously controlled our home, and I know as a non-native I have no right to say what I'm about to say, but I have to say it - _No-one is doing anything about it. _Collectively, we are losing what it means to be Night Valeans. I've seen the same faces almost every day for the past five years of my life and I honestly don't recognise most of the people behind them anymore. I'm sorry, but it's true. If you're content with this state of affairs then go ahead and move to Desert Bluffs. Stay tuned next for complete silence and a hope for a slightly-less-terrible future. Good night, Night Vale. Good night.' _She flicked a switch, before storming out the door.

* * *

Talking about it had made her realise just how awful the situation was, and she'd had to get out. She didn't think about where she was going, only the steady pounding of her feet on the ground and the heat of the blazing sun. Eventually she looked around with scarlet eyes to find herself in the vast expanse of desert.

She fired at the nearest cactus multiple times, cursing the people that had done this.

_Look on the bright side, Han,_ she told herself in an attempt to calm down after realising that cactus-plugging wasn't working, _you've done your first real broadcast!_ She turned to head back, hoping she'd know the way.

Then the pain hit her. It felt like her head was splitting apart, and she collapsed to the ground clutching it. Unbidden, images flashed before her now-violet eyes. She closed them up tightly...and it stopped. Cautiously, she opened them again. It didn't come back. _Well, that was weird._

* * *

**A note about Han's radio voice: I tried to make her on-air personality seem a little more casual than Cecil, given she's only 16, but at the same time kind of similar, partly because that was her intention and partly for another reason altogether...and that reason has to do with her mysterious migraine...**


	7. Chapter 6- Big Brother

**I'm back!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Virals or WTNV. I do, however, now own two Night Vale shirts and some Girl Scout patches. And of course there is the tentacardi. ALL HAIL THE TENTACARDI!**

* * *

_What was that?_, Han asked herself as she slowly stood up, running a hand across her forehead. No migraine could be that painful; there must have been physical damage - but there wasn't. No cuts. No blood. No bone. No brain matter. Nothing to indicate anything had ever happened to her.

Her first thought was to report the Incident to the Sheriff's Secret Police, as was the protocol with such things. That, however, was off-limits now, thanks to StrexCorp.

Her second thought was to ask Carlos. As a scientist, it was likely he'd be able to figure it out. That was _also_ no longer an option, for obvious reasons (and even if it had been, she had her reservations - if this...whatever-it-was...had never happened to anyone else before there was a strong probability she'd go from being 'that girl who works for his boyfriend' to 'interesting lab specimen', and quite frankly _neither_ was how she wanted to be remembered. Both simultaneously would be a nightmare.)

Plan C was to tell the Virals, but if she did there was a good chance she'd be forcibly sidelined. _No way._ This was _her_ battle and she was going to fight it whether they - or even she herself - liked it or not. In a perfect world she'd be content to report rather than participate, but this was not a perfect world. It was imperfect in the worst possible way, and she wouldn't be able to take not being involved.

That left one final course of action - tell no-one and hope it cleared itself up. It wasn't a particularly _good _course of action, dear listeners, but she couldn't think of a better one.

She began to walk back.

* * *

"I've just realised," Hi began back at the motel, "this doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't?" Ella replied, throwing down the notepad she'd been scribbling in. She'd started out by trying to get a script together for Han in case she'd been uncomfortable winging it, but realised that, without any knowledge of Night Vale beyond what she'd been told, she couldn't do it. She'd wound up absently doodling. Herself. Her friends. Landmarks she had seen. Landmarks she couldn't remember seeing because she had yet to pass them. People she had yet to meet. Mysterious symbols connected with long-forgotten rituals for purposes best left unremembered. Void. Stars. She tried not to think about it too hard.

"Han. I'm as happy to see her again as the next guy, but I've been thinking, and it doesn't add up."

"How so?" Tory asked, petting Coop in a state of absolute boredom.

"Well, the eleven-year-old Haneet thought TV had made the radio redundant. Sixteen-year-old Haneet works - or worked - at NVCR."

"So?" Shelton retorted. "Maybe she just changed her mind. She has a gift, anyway."

"Also, she said she got the job a couple years back. That makes her 14, and, under state law, not legally old enough to work, so how did she do it?"

Ben shrugged.

"That _is _fishy," Tory admitted, "but we promised we'd help her. If you're having second thoughts, Hiram-"l

"I just think we should be careful, is all."

* * *

"Haneet!"

_Keep walking, Han. He doesn't know it's you. He's guessing, or mixed you up with a different Haneet._

"Hanny!" _Nope. It's me. And that means it can only be one person calling me._

"I told you to quit calling me that, Ravi!" She turned to smile at her older brother. She wasn't sure where he'd come from, exactly, but there he was, stood a short distance away from her.

"I know." He shrugged, grinning back.

"So why-" she broke off as she took in his expression. _"No. Nonononono."_

"What's up?"

"You...you're...one of _them_?"

"One of who?"

"_Them._ StrexCorp. How could you?"

"It's fine, Han, really!"

"Stop smiling like that!" She began to back away as he strode towards her.

"Just calm down. Let me explain."

Han scowled, but decided she may as well listen to what her traitor of a brother had to say. At the very least it would make a good story for a future broadcast.

"I'd just graduated college, and this guy approached me. He offered me a job, just like that. He'd never even met me, didn't know anything about me, just asked if I needed work. I'd be paid, I'd have accommodation, I'd be close to home. I asked how he knew where I lived, and the guy just smiled and handed me a card with an address written on the back."

"And that didn't seem sinister?"

"A little, but I was curious. I changed my route so I'd end up at the new destination rather than the Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area - although I still thought it was called Night Vale at the time. I realised it was StrexCorp when I arrived, but all I knew about them was the paranoid ramblings you and our parents picked up from the radio. Logically, there was a chance you were all mistaken - I mean, a man who claims to have visited a country called 'Luftnarp' is hardly a reliable source of information-"

"You can't speak ill of the Voice!" Han broke in, scandalised. "It's an offence punishable by reeducation...or...at least it _was._"

Ravi Dhillon ignored her. "-so I figured it couldn't hurt. They told me they'd had their eye on me for a while, that I could be an asset to their organisation. They showed me things, Haneet. Things that had been. Things that were being. Things that were yet to be. And it was _wonderful_!"

"Do Mom and Dad know about this?"

"No. Do they know about _your_ new career as a serial killer?"

"No. And besides, I am _not_ a serial killer," she explained for what felt like the millionth time, "I am a teenage girl who has taken it upon herself to drive the parasitic corporatists out of her city by any means necessary."

"Including murder."

"It's not murder. In war, when someone gets shot or blown up, do they call it murder?"

"This isn't a war," her brother replied calmly, "and I know you don't want it to be one."

"How do you know what I _want_?" Her voice was acid.

"I listened to your little broadcast."

"What?" She'd meant it more as a reaction to the word 'little'. That fact, however, got lost in translation.

"Of course I listened to it. You're my baby sister." That simple misinterpretation, somewhat unfortunately, made the situation so much worse.

"_'Baby sister.' _That's all I am, isn't it? Ravi Dhillon's _baby sister_. Whenever we see our relatives, it's always Ravi the smart one, Sanjay the cute one, and Haneet the middle child. You know, I have lived my _whole life_ trying to be more like you. _You_ wanted to study math, so I learned the cosine rule by heart. _You_ were the logical one, so I tried to rewire my brain. _You_ loved modernity, so I turned my back on everything that wasn't totally cutting-edge. I wanted people to notice _me_, and all that ever happened was that I cast myself further into _your_ shadow. And the worst part is,I couldn't even get _that_ right! I've always secretly kind of hated math! I've always loved speculating on the impossible! And I loved my job at NCR, even though I never really applied for it and have yet to be paid after two years. No-one has _ever_ believed in me! Our parents overlook me. You haven't had time for me since I was eight years old. Sanjay thinks I'm an idiot. Cecil only ever saw me as the unpaid coffee girl and never as anyone with any potential. Tamika wouldn't let me join her militia cos I don't read. StrexCorp doesn't take me seriously." Her eyes shifted from scarlet to indigo. "I-"

"You're wrong, Haneet. I believe in you. So does StrexCorp. You _do _have potential."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, we _care._ And you, Hanny, have a talent."

"For shooting?"

"For radio work. We at StrexCorp will nurture this ability, make you as good as - no, _better than_ \- Palmer ever was. We know you walked out of DBRI, and we understand you were upset, but we're prepared to forgive you for anything you might have done since, and we are prepared to give you a job. A real job, with payment and security and tasks that don't just involve coffee or fanfiction." Ravi smiled even wider - if that were possible - and laid a hand on his sister's shoulder. "And, even better, you have a chance - no, better than that, a _certainty _\- of promotion. You, Haneet, will someday take over from our Kevin."

"You mean-"

"You, dear sister, will become the Voice of the Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area."

The only ambition she'd ever had of her own...at the cost of everything she'd ever truly believed in.

* * *

"You know what I think is weird?" Ben added suddenly. "Prophecies usually entail the Chosen One being in that role for the rest of their lives, but Han's Voice prophecy seems more like a kind of conveyor belt. It's too structured."

Hi nodded. Now that the initial excitement from recruitment had almost dissipated, he was starting to wonder how the hell this had ever seemed like a good idea.

"Maybe it's not a real prophecy, just a really inefficient method of choosing a job applicant." Tory suggested. "It's not a reason to back out of an agreement."

"Maybe, but why would she think it _was_ a prophecy?" Hi asked. "I'm sorry, but I think Han's gone loco."

"You're telling me nothing she's told us is real?" Ella was sure it wasn't true. She didn't know Haneet as well as the others, but she'd felt like her new-found ally had been telling the truth. And anyway, she herself was part-wolf - she saw no reason to suspect the extreme weirdness Han sometimes came out with couldn't be real.

"Pretty much. She needs help."

"I don't believe it."

"I'm with Ella. How do you explain the light we saw on the first day?" Tory challenged.

"Solar flare?" Hi volunteered lamely, knowing it didn't sound right.

"And you guys didn't see the night sky over Night Vale." Shelton moved to sit with the girls. "The sun doesn't seem to set any more there, and according to Han it's because of StrexCorp. Explain that."

"Maybe there's just a lot of streetlights there."

"Ben, the sky was _blue._"

"I guess we'll just have to ask her when she gets back." Tory said decisively, putting an end to the discussion.

* * *

For a moment, Han stood still and silent. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet. "I will not become the mouthpiece of a Smiling God."

"What?"

"I said," she repeated, louder, "I will not become the mouthpiece of a Smiling God! I would rip my own vocal chords out before I let that happen!"

"We could reconstruct them." It didn't feel so much like an offer any more. It felt like a threat.

"Don't bother."

"The Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area needs you to stop fighting. It's sending out all the wrong messages and disrupting productivity."

"I'm sorry, but I think you mispronounced 'Night Vale'. There's a lot of that going round right now."

"You can't stay living in the past forever."

"Who says?"

"Everyone that matters. It's over. You're alone in this. Your friends don't understand you anymore. They don't understand _this_. Palmer and Flynn are both dead."

"You're lying." Han's voice was controlled, almost entirely steady, but her eyes gave her away. She wasn't calm. Not by a long shot.

"I'm not."

"You are," she insisted, "because killing them would be illogical. Tamika was the embodiment of civic pride. Cecil was, essentially, the embodiment of our city. Killing them...you'd risk creating martyrs. Not everyone's given in, and your precious StrexCorp wouldn't want to give them a reason to mobilize."

Ravi stared at his sister for a short whole, then clapped slowly. "You're smart," he said, and then: "too smart."

"I don't know who you think you are," Han retrieved her gun from its holster, "but you are _not_ my brother. Not anymore." The flames in her eyes began to die away, leaving coal-black emptiness where they had once been.

"You wouldn't."

"You have five seconds to leave, or I _will_." She aimed her weapon with shaking hands.

"You're making a mistake."

"Four."

"We gave you a chance."

"Three."

"StrexCorp is looking for you."

"Two."

"They _will_ find you."

"One."

"Why wouldn't you listen, baby sister?" Ravi walked off into the desert, and Han was left with a feeling she hadn't felt before. She wasn't angry anymore, but the feeling she had now couldn't be called _calm_. It was too empty, too echoing, for that. Instead she just felt..._void._

Gradually, however, the sensation of blankness passed, to be replaced by another she knew very well but had, for the most part, been able to suppress since her voluntary exile.

Fear.

StrexCorp would be searching for her, she was certain, and she wasn't scared of them. But she wasn't alone, whatever they tried to tell her. Not anymore. She had allies now, allies who didn't fully understand her world. Allies who were in danger now, because of her.

Yes, she was afraid, but not for herself. She was afraid for _them._

* * *

"Han," Hi began as she slammed into the room, "we need to talk-"

"No time!" Han cut him off, cramming whatever she could into her backpack. "My brother's with Strex now. They'll find me, and that means they'll find you guys. We have to get out of here."

"Han, listen. We...we think it's all in your head."

"No, we don't." Ella retorted. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as humanly possible." Han grimaced, realizing the insensitivity of the statement. "I mean, Viral-ly possible," she corrected.

"Nothing you've said makes any sense!" Ben said insistently.

"Welcome to Night Vale, Ben. Nothing makes sense!"

"We're not leaving." Hiram folded his arms and tried to look intimidating. (Note I said _tried_, listeners, not _succeeded.)_

"Do you _want _to die?" Han glared, eyes flashing crimson again.

"No, but we can't spend the rest of our lives running around the country based on your paranoid delusions!"

"I'm not delusional! You're the delusional one! You probably believe in _mountains!"_

"See, guys?"

"Maybe we _should _stay put," Tory suggested after a moment's deliberation. "At least for now. We fly back to Charleston the day after tomorrow, right? We'll find some way to get Han back with us, and we'll get help."

"You believe me?" Han and Hi chorused.

"Han, yes; Hi, no."

* * *

**A note about the discrepancies: All will be revealed later. If it is not, it has probably been censored by the City Council, the Sheriff's Secret Police, any number of vague yet menacing government agencies, the Illuminati...you get the idea. All that can be explained will be explained. All that cannot be explained must be forgotten immediately. Please report to the Sheriff's Secret Police for re-education.**


	8. Chapter 7 - A Subterranean Adventure

**This chapter's a short one! Sorry, guys! It's just that SSupernatural took over my life a little.**

**And Terminal broke me. AND BRENDAN PERSONALLY PROMISED ME HILA MOMENTS AND I GOT NONE! Not cool, man. Not cool at all. I will never accept Chella as canon. Ever. Hi is Ella's soulmate.**

* * *

They shouldn't have been there.

They should have been on their way to the airport, ready to fly back to Charleston, to sanity. Ready to get help.

But no.

The Virals and Han were instead moving stealthily through the city that used to be known as Night Vale.

And Han hadn't been exaggerating one tiny bit.

"Is this blood?" Hi asked as he stared down at the thick red puddle he'd stepped in.

"Probably." Han nodded.

Hi made a gagging noise. Shelton looked like he was going to faint.

"What is _wrong_ with these people?"

Tory looked down at what appeared to be a human lung, grimaced, and stepped over it. "I'm not so sure they're _people_."

"Why am I here?" Ben scowled. This wasn't how he'd expected his week to go.

"There's somewhere I need to be."

* * *

Eventually the procession halted in front of a small, shabby but well cared for house. Han looked around cautiously, judged it was safe, and knocked on the door.

It was opened by something the Virals had never seen before, ten feet tall and glowing with what could only be described as heavenly radiance.

"Morning, Erika," greeted Han, "although it can't be morning since you aren't real." 'Erika' rolled its many eyes. "Is Josie in?"

The creature nodded and stepped back inside.

A minute later the door was reopened by a sweet-looking old lady.

A sweet-looking old lady wielding a military-grade submachine gun.

"I need to use the passage," Han said without hesitation.

"Right this way," the woman replied, leading Haneet and the Virals through the house, passing several more of the 'Erika' beings (one of whom Tory was certain was wearing a trenchcoat).

They stopped in a small utility room with a trapdoor half-covered with junk.

"Thank you, Josie." Han lifted the panel with a creak and put one foot onto the first rung of the ladder.

"Anything for a fellow resistor," Josie said. "Where is it you're going?"

"Can't tell you. You never know who's listening now. Stay strong, Old Woman Josie."

"Stay strong, Vigilante Haneet."

Han began her descent. Next went Ella, then Ben (who held Coop under one arm, being the only one strong enough to do so), then Tory. Hi followed them, and Shelton, casting a nervous glance back at the strange creatures and strange old lady, brought up the rear.

Old Woman Josie gazed down the hatch after the six of them, before closing it and reconcealing the entrance.

"Good luck, Haneet Dhillon."

* * *

Shelton jumped as he felt something slimy skitter past his leg. He couldn't see much in the tunnels, even flaring and with Haneet's glowing form up ahead lighting the way.

"What is this place?" Ella asked. She and Hi had subconsciously moved closer together, as had Tory and Ben.

"The catacombs," Han replied, voice echoing. "No-one knows who built them, but they run under every building in Night Vale. Even the ones that don't exist."

Far off, something howled. Coop growled in response.

"Wanna tell us where we're going _now_?" Ben sounded annoyed. Wandering around in damp subterranean passageways was hardly his idea of a good time.

"The radio station. I know it's dangerous, but I can't leave Night Vale without going in one last time." Han sighed mournfully.

Hi saw something move in his peripheral vision. "Is there anything...alive...down here?"

"Depends on how you define 'alive'."

Shelton threw up.

* * *

**A note about the angel with the trenchcoat: See what I did there? (Nothing will ever convince me that Cas doesn't hang out with Old Woman Josie when he's not preoccupied staring at Dean.)**


	9. Chapter 8 -The Rebel Alliance

**I'm back!**

**And you can now read this over on AO3! Same title, but my penname there is CasGetYourShotgun.**

* * *

The procession was stopped by a dumpy-looking young woman in a blood-splattered, sunshine-yellow shirt with 'DBRI' printed across it along with a symbol that resembled a sun, only with a C-shape in the center.

"Look what Khoschekh dragged in," she sneered. "The Voice's Pet returns."

"Nice to see you too, Maureen," Han spat back, pointing her gun at the woman.

"And look," she continued, "you've brought some friends with you. How sweet!"

"Shut up," Han scowled as Shelton wondered if it was too late to make a break for it and take his chances in the disgusting catacombs and gore-streaked city.

"You won't like us when we're angry," Ben warned. (Hi muttered 'Avengers assemble' under his breath, but no-one listened except Ella, who just rolled her eyes.)

"Relax, Probie," Maureen said. "And Probie's friends," she added as an obvious afterthought. "I'm not with Strex."

"You're wearing their shirt," Tory pointed out reasonably.

"It's a cover, dumbass," the intern barked.

"For what?"

"Intern Damien and I have...kind of a resistance movement." Maureen lowered her voice as though fearful of being overheard. "It's mainly escaped prisoners. We're giving them shelter down here. There's Tamika and the remnants of her book club, former Mayor Cardinal, Carlos - they found him when they went to get Kevin back - Marina who supplied bloodstone for bloodstone circles until Strex banned them, Cecil-"

"Cecil's alive?" Han asked. "I knew it!"

"Yes, he's alive. You _know_ city ordinance forbids ghosts and the undead from joining resistance movements, Probie."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Okay, VP." VP stood for 'Voice's Pet'. Damien had coined it when Haneet had first decided she wanted a real career in radio and 'made him look bad' (although any effort at all from someone else would make Damien look bad, given that all he did was eat Big Rico's pizza in the break room).

"...I'm cool with Probie, actually."

"Whatever. Now come with me. This place isn't safe."

* * *

In spite of Maureen's abrasive attitude, the Virals and Haneet actually enjoyed being a part of what Hi immediately dubbed the Rebel Alliance. Aside from the two interns, who - fortunately for the pack - had to spend most of their time working above ground in the radio station in order to maintain their cover, everyone was accepting of the new blood. Ordinarily, Cecil (who was humanoid, with three eyes, tentacles and a creepily deep voice, but no other features that could easily be described) had explained, the Virals would have been run out of town accompanied by bloodcurdling screams and chanting of the word 'interlopers', but under the circumstances all help was good help. Marina was kind enough to make them feel hopeful, Dana Cardinal was a more than capable leader, and Carlos, being a scientist and non-native, was perhaps the only sane person in the entire city. Tamika and the militia - intelligent badasses that they were - became practically family to Tory and her pack over the next few days.

In actual fact, it was a combination of the two forces that were responsible for the ambush and kidnap of Kevin L'Heureux. It had been a difficult undertaking, make no mistake, dear listeners, but suffice it to say that by the time our story picks up again Kevin was tied to a chair in the corridor that had been designated the official laboratory of the rebellion. Carlos had enlisted the assistance of Hi, Shelton and some of the more scientifically-adept book-clubbers to find a way to reverse the brainwashing Strex had inflicted upon its subjects, with limited success. (The other Virals were just relieved they hadn't been chosen; just one glimpse of the gaping, empty hole in Kevin's forehead where a third eye had once resided had been enough for them.)

With Kevin gone, of course, Cecil was in charge of DBRI's radio, ably assisted by Han, who was in her element. This in itself was, although at this time no-one but Dana and Cecil knew it, a remarkable thing. This could change the course of the revolution forever.

Now, however? Now, listeners, things were already changing.

* * *

Since the Virals had entered the catacombs, there had been no other entrants to the catacombs, save for a man whose face none of them could remember (and who couldn't possibly have been wearing the same coat as the Erika Tory had seen at Old Woman Josie's place) who had been turned away with screams of terror. On this particular day, however, a stranger entered.

Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her clothes were immaculate. She didn't look like an escaped prisoner, but she was too clean and too sane to be from the Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area. She was an outsider in every sense, it seemed.

And yet there was something in her voice that commanded respect from the small band of revolutionaries.

She said her name was Rachel, and that her arrival would be their salvation.


	10. Chapter 9 - Perfectly According To Plan

**Hey! I know it's been a while since I've updated, but I'm not abandoning this story. I've been a little preoccupied with my unpublished SPN fic, but I'll try and focus on this one a little more.**

**(I'm terrible, I know.) **

**As always, I own nothing. Enjoy!**

* * *

Rachel, as it turned out, was remarkably good at running a revolutionary group. Before, the Rebel Alliance (very few of whom enjoyed being referred to as the Rebel Alliance) had been somewhat disorganised, but within two days of Rachel's arrival it had become a model of efficiency.

The subterraneans had been divided into five groups: Intelligence, Communications, Supplies, Science, and Combat, and each had a designated leader. Steve Carlsburg, who had been among the first to enter the catacombs but had previously been shunned due to some kind of feud with Cecil, was now Head Of Intelligence. Cecil was in charge of Communications, Marina lead Supplies (which was somewhat disappointing, but also a relief - she had never particularly enjoyed conflict), and Carlos, being Night Vale's only proper scientist, headed up the Science division. Rachel herself was in charge of Combat, and those under her command (including Ben and Tamika) were forbidden to discuss what went on in their training. (That's not to say they never tried to communicate this information, however; it was as though they were physically unable.)

Romantic partners were assigned to different sectors from each other to prevent distraction, and everyone was to work to the best of their abilities. Final decisions were made by a council, consisting of Rachel, Steve, Cecil, Dana, Carlos and Marina.

The revolution was running like an exceptionally well-oiled machine.

* * *

It took Science two Night Valean months (which, dear listeners, are different to outside months, although no-one knows how or why) to reverse Kevin's brainwashing, and another three weeks for him to be calm enough to be in any way useful to the revolution.

But when he was, a plan was made.

Kevin had been one of the few people StrexCorp's CEO was close to, and one of even fewer permitted into his quarters. No-one would suspect him.

It made Kevin the perfect spy, and the perfect assassin.

Everything was in place. Intelligence wired him up with cameras and a listening device created by Science, in order to acquire potentially useful information that could be broadcast by Communications, as well as give Kevin directions and prompts should this prove necessary.

Rachel smiled at the revolutionaries as Kevin and his escorts made their way out of the catacombs and assured them that everything would be fine, before clapping her hands as one would to a dog or a small child. Combat followed her into another tunnel to do whatever it was they did.

* * *

It was strange for Kevin, being back in StrexCorp's office complex after so long.

There was the research lab where so many exciting developments (or at least, what had appeared exciting before) had been made, and the conference room where so many business owners and council members had been tortured...ahem, _persuaded_...to merge with or sell to what had once seemed a glorious community of workers and friends. And the desk where...never mind. (Kevin flushed to think about it.)

It was like realising your parents were behind Santa's visits every Christmas. Now Kevin knew the truth, now his eyes were finally open, everything seemed flatter. The oranges and yellows of the decoration no longer seemed so warm. The white tiles and panels no longer seemed pure, just clinical and sterile. The animal viscera and pools of blood no longer looked welcoming.

The Smiling God no longer seemed like something worth believing in.

Night Vale and Desert Bluffs were.

He took pride in transmitting all he saw back to Night Vale, even going out of his way to snoop just so his comrades would have more intel.

He placed a hand on the gun concealed under his jacket as he pressed the button on his former employer's intercom.

And that, dear listeners, is where everything began to go south.

* * *

Back under Night Vale, Intelligence watched with the ever-cliched bated breath. Finn, a member of Tamika's militia, had found popcorn somewhere - no-one knew where - and they sat in front of the monitor dipping their hand into the bowl and chewing loudly as though the events unfolding were only the plot of a contrived B-movie.

They watched as the CEO invited Kevin in. They listened as the two discussed Strex plans (recording their observations, of course.)

And they watched as Kevin pulled out the gun and prepared to pull the trigger.

They saw the CEO's eyes widen in shock, and then narrow.

They heard him ask if this was really what Kevin wanted, if 'their time together' had meant nothing.

They watched Kevin lower the weapon.

_'I could never shoot you, Diego.'_

* * *

You see, dear listeners, whoever devised this plan had overlooked something vitally important.

Throughout history, Night Vale and Desert Bluff have always run parallel to one another - events of one will always be mirrored in the other somewhere in history.

Cecil Palmer and Kevin L'Heureux had always been intended as each other's counterpoints, that was onbious. What was less obvious was the mirror of Carlos in Diego.

Cecil would never shoot Carlos.

As above, so below.

It was in accordance with the prophecy.

Kevin flinched, before removing the bug and grinding it under his shoe.

Whether it was love, the Smiling God, or something much more ancient than either remains to be seen, but one way or another Kevin was doomed before he was ever saved.

* * *

Late that night, when everyone was sleeping, Rachel sat up and padded out of the Combat region of the catacombs.

This was not the first time it had happened. In fact, it was her practice to leave her quarters once a week in the dead of night, when no-one would hear her.

However, this was the first time she'd been caught.

As she passed Intelligence, Ella stirred in her sleep. Pure coincidence, but she opened her eyes just in time to see Rachel moving through the tunnels.

She flared, and followed. She _was_ with Intelligence, after all. It was only natural that she follow. It was her business.

Rachel made her way back to the cavern under the radio station, climbed the ladder, lifted the trapdoor, and emerged into the world above ground. Ella could not follow, of course, for fear of being spotted, but her enhanced hearing allowed her to listen in as the woman made a phone call.

She could only hear snatches, but what she caught was horrifying.

This went beyond reporting to Tory or Steve.

She had to take this to Dana.

* * *

**Cliffhangers are fun, aren't they?**


	11. Chapter 10- Kill Your Double

**Apologies for the long wait!**

* * *

"You're certain, Ella?" asked Dana the following day. Ella had waited for a period of free time when no-one would be working, in order to organise a meeting. Such a period would always occur after lunch, and no-one had ever seen Rachel not busy. The Viral had taken full advantage of that fact.

"I know what I heard, Mayor Cardinal," she replied. "You have to believe me. Rachel is... she's the Peter Pettigrew of the Resistance!"

"Wow," Hi quipped. "Sounds Sirius."

Ella kicked him. "Not the time."

"I should have known there was something not quite right about her," Dana sighed. "If Rachel's working for Strex, we'll have to be careful. Combat?" Everyone from Combat stood at attention, something drilled into them by Rachel. "Follow Science. If you've been conditioned in any way we need to fix it _now._ Intelligence, keep an eye out. The most important thing is to act just as you normally would."

For once, everyone was silent.

It was vitally important not to tip Rachel off.

* * *

Diego smiled - not smiled, but there is no word in any language for what he did instead - as he listened to the recorded call from that night.

The last Night Valeans thought they were so strong. So good.

They weren't.

The mole had earned their trust, begun to control their strongest members. In the heat of battle, they would turn on their comrades. The plans fed to the others would be weak and flimsy.

The rebellion would be crushed, just like it had been before.

There would be no more Night Vale.

Only Strex.

Only the Smiling God.

* * *

The call to arms came a week later.

Rachel had 'heard' (more like 'arranged') that the StrexCorp defences were weakening. It was the perfect chance to strike.

Each rebel was given a job in a complicated plan, and everyone had to play their part to ensure the success of the attack.

Listeners, I will tell you this right now: Rachel's plans weren't the ones that would be carried out that day.

The rebel forces had their own ideas. And with Combat free of her control, her grip on the Resistance was crumbling.

She just didn't know it.

As Han tried to follow one of the three main bodies moving through the catacombs towards Desert Bluffs, she was stopped.

"No, Haneet."

"But-"

The former Mayor cut her off. "You have to stay here. Someone has to man the radio station. Bianca! Finn!" Two of Tamika's book-clubbers came running out of the tunnels. "Stay with Haneet."

"I have to go! I have to fight!"

"No," Dana said again. "We can't lose you."

"Sure you can! I don't matter! Not as much as Night Vale!"

For a moment, no-one says anything. Then: "You weren't supposed to find out this way."

"Find out what?"

Dana forced the girl to look her in the eye. "Haneet," she said, "without you, there is no Night Vale."

* * *

The area around StrexCorp Headquarters was in chaos.

Something exploded only feet from where Tory and a young man from Tamika's militia stood. Hi, Ella, Shelton and Cooper were nowhere to be seen.

On the other side of the battlefield, a few others were attempting to break into the building only to be beaten back by something too hideous for words.

There were casualties from both sides, mostly Night Valeans.

Mostly young Night Valeans.

_War_, Ben thought as he watched his girlfriend begin to panic, weaker than he'd ever seen her before, _is hell_.

* * *

"I don't understand."

"You were born here, Haneet. Your parents were born here. You describe yourself as the esophageal speech of our city, but you're wrong. The prophecy was always about you."

"You mean-"

"Haneet, _you _are the next Voice of Night Vale."

"I'm the next Voice?"

"That's why you have to stay here. If Cecil dies you can take his place, but your life cannot be risked. The city needs you alive." Dana turned to Finn and Bianca. "Stay with Haneet. Help her. Protect her. _Do not let her leave._"

* * *

Barely half an hour into her duties, Haneet was sick of them.

_"Once again, Night Vale, if any of you still care enough to fight for your home, then I need you to - screw it." _Han stood up and motioned for Bianca and Finn to stay out on the other side of the glass. _"How am I supposed to encourage you to fight if I'm stuck in here? It's not right. It's not fair. It's hypocrisy. I can't just sit here whilst people die. I leave you now with the weather, and if I never come back, then goodbye, Night Vale. Goodbye."_

She left the room and, along with her two companions (who seemed pretty glad to be getting in on the action) began to make her way underground.

She wasn't going down without a fight.

* * *

The Night Valean forces had increased (Old Woman Josie had brought her not-angels, and a substantial number of Scouts, whose first loyalty was always to Night Vale, had thrown themselves into the fighting), and Diego looked down on the fighting from his office with disdain.

This couldn't be happening! The plan was falling apart!

Still, he reasoned, it was early days. They were still a disorganised rabble, with none of the efficiency of a StrexCorp citizen, and they were no match for a properly-programmed StrexPet.

StrexCorp would be victorious.

Just as he was thinking this, the ground shook.

The rebels had blown a hole in the side of the building.

He pressed a button and gave the order for more workers to surround the breach.

The Resistance couldn't be allowed to get in.

* * *

"Bianca, you genius!" Han exclaimed, looking at the younger girl with a new respect.

Finn disagreed. "Releasing Station Management? Are you crazy?"

"It's risky, I know, but I have to try. It was created to defend the station. StrexCorp puts it at risk, and I know for a fact they moved it down here. I heard the screams when they first took over. Management will find them."

"You could kill Night Valeans!"

"Not 'kill', Finn. Corporeally absorb, maybe, but not kill!"

"That's not better!"

"It's worth a shot. You two go on ahead. I'll give you a minute's head start."

* * *

From their hiding place, Ella saw a figure emerging from the floor inside the building. She turned to Hi with an expression of joy and shock. "Han's in there!"

"What?"

"She got inside! I saw her!"

Hi stood up, eyes glowing. "I'm going after her. Stay here."

"No way." Ella pulled herself upright and folded her arms. "I'm going with you. More people is good."

"You might not come back out."

"I don't care!" She shot back. "I love you, and if you're going to risk your life then how the hell am I supposed to sit back and watch?"

They both realised what she's just said at the same time.

"You...you love me?"

"Of course. Why do you think I put up with your jokes?"

"Because I'm hilarious?"

"You and me, we're like... we're kinda like Remus and Sirius. We probably shouldn't work, but we do. We work. And if you're going in, so am I." She began making her way towards the breach in the walls, armed and ready.

Hi stood for a moment, then ran after her. "Sirius died and Remus married Tonks; I'm really not sure what you're trying to say here!"

* * *

Haneet didn't know how she'd expected this to end, but it wasn't with her being ambushed by Strex workers and knocked out five minutes into her entry.

It certainly wasn't waking up in a glass case suspended Glow-Cloud-knows-where in the facility.

And she certainly didn't expect to see anyone else as she scrambled to her feet.

"You didn't kill your double, Haneet."

Han stared in shock as the young brunette stepped towards her, the glass case swaying disconcertingly beneath her feet.

"Who are you?"

"Haneet." This other Haneet was Han's mirror image in every way - the same hair, same build, same mannerisms - bar one. Their eyes were different colours; Not-Haneet still had brown irises that didn't glow.

"You're my double?"

"Um, yeah." Not-Haneet rolled her eyes in the same way Han often did. "Your double, and your perfect self." She pulled her gun from the holster strapped to her leg and aimed it at Haneet.

"Wait!" Not-Haneet refrained from pulling the trigger, but didn't drop her weapon. "If you shoot me, the bullet might break the glass. Then we'll both die."

"I guess so," Not-Haneet agreed, replacing the pistol before adding coldly, "but now it'll be harder to kill you."

"Why do you want to kill me anyway? I mean, I know Cecil told us to kill our doubles during that sandstorm, but that was ages ago!"

"In Desert Bluffs they were urged to team up to get more work done."

"So why don't we work together to get down from here?" Haneet asked hopefully.

"Because you are my imperfect self," her doppelganger replied, "and StrexCorp tells us to kill our imperfect selves."

"How do you know you're not my imperfect self?"

"Because you're flawed." Not-Haneet spat the words out as though they left a bad taste in her mouth.

"How so?" Han challenged.

"You bite your nails; you get angry so very easily; you're a freak of nature, you're so unfriendly sometimes-"

"That's just human nature. You're not so great yourself."

"How so?"

"You're easily-duped, apparently."

"I'm just obedient. You lie and you steal and you carry a gun to hurt people who only want the best for you, and-."

"Hey, at least I have a life." Han retorted. "And you're not perfect. You can't be."

"Why not?"

"You're annoying. That's a flaw. You're conceited. That's one too."

"I am _not!_" Not-Haneet stamped her foot childishly.

"And here's the kicker," Han paused for effect, "you're my double, right?"

"Yeah..."

"That means we're the same. If I'm imperfect then so are you."

* * *

The full Resistance had migrated together, a single entity facing the equally unbreakable Strex ranks.

Tory gripped onto Ben's hand, reaching out with her other for Ella. The other girl took it and grabbed Hi, who reached for Shelton. Shelton reached for Han, before remembering she was gone.

The true Virals would go down together.

...Listeners, I have a confession. Until this point, you've assumed I was present for everything. I was not. Solo moments, the Virals in hotel rooms, moments from inside Diego's inner sanctum? I had to piece them together from witness testimonies and surveillance tapes for a comprehensive account. I wasn't the powerful creature I am today. I was weak. Human. All I had was a brilliant memory and a knowledge of how people think.

So I cannot tell you how Ben was really feeling as they all waited for something to give.

I cannot tell you how Ella felt when Hi squeezed her hand, mouthing _live like Wolfstar, die like Remadora? _or how he felt when she nodded in response.

I can't tell you whether Tory and Tamika both feared for their respective forces, coalesced into a single group.

I have no insight as to how it felt when Carlos made eye contact with Cecil for what could have been the last time.

I can't tell you whether Dana looked around her and felt that, if she could have done something differently, it may not have come to this.

I can't tell you the innermost thoughts and feelings of Steve or Marina or Old Woman Josie or Maureen or Damien or the Erikas, or anyone else.

I can't tell you whether any StrexCorpers felt regret for their non-choices, choices they'd never consciously made.

And I can't tell you how it felt for Finn when the shapeless mass materialised behind the Night Valean forces, on their side for once, and they realised Bianca was not with it.

I wish I could, but so many of them are gone now, and I cannot ask.

But I can tell you that the Night Valean battle cry was heard for miles around when they finally attacked, trying to break inside.

* * *

Not-Haneet's eyes, which had previously been fixed hungrily on her double's throat, widened in shock. "Well…then…I guess I'll just have to kill you to _make_ myself perfect."

_Damn,_ thought the real Han. They were evenly matched. She couldn't fight her way out, and she clearly couldn't reason her way out, and she hadn't a clue how she was supposed to _get_ out. She'd have to think her way out, and fast.

It reminded her of a game she'd used to play with her older brother.

He'd give her a riddle, and she'd try to figure out the answer. One day he'd asked her the one about the man in the room with no windows or doors, and how he'd gotten there. She'd guessed immediately it had been built around him.

He told her all the room contained was a table and a mirror, then asked how he could get out, and this had gotten the better of her. On hearing the answer she'd punched him in the arm in annoyance and thought no more about it, but on moving to Night Vale it had come to her mind again.

Because in Night Vale, such a thing might actually be possible.

* * *

The Night Valean resistance had split into groups again, each with one objective.

There was one last set of Old Oak Doors in the area, perhaps the world, and it was in Diego's quarters.

Find the doors.

Destroy them.

Shut out the Smiling God forever.

If possible, kill Diego.

But there was another group.

The Virals wanted to find Haneet.

* * *

'_He looks in the mirror and sees what he saw. He picks up the saw and cuts the table in half. Two halves make a whole. He climbs out through the hole.'_ she muttered to herself.

'What?'

She ignored her doppelganger. _So what's the answer now?_ Her double moved closer, and the glass box swayed again. The floor was a long way down; if the glass gave out she had no chance. _Pity I'm not Koshekh,_ she thought, _cats aren't like humans. The further they have to fall-wait!_

She forced herself to meet her clone's eyes.

"Haven't we learnt anything from the condos debacle?" she asked sweetly, pointing her gun at the fragile floor. "Perfection is overrated."

Not-Haneet ran on pure logic, like Han herself had yearned to do once upon a time, but the new Haneet understood.

Night Valean logic was the only logic there was.

Her only chance to escape was to break her own rule.

She fired.

The glass beneath them cracked.

_The further a cat has to fall, the more likely it is to survive._

* * *

Somewhere on the top floor, Diego pressed yet another button.

"Rachel."

"Yes, sir?"

"Code white."

"Right away, sir."

"And report to my office as soon as it is done."

"Of course, sir."

* * *

Haneet stood upright, brushing glass fragments from her clothes and ignoring the trickles of faintly-glowing blood welling up in her palms. She'd survived.

Her double wasn't so lucky.

_That could be me there._ She shuddered.

"Han!"

"Guys?"

Hi pulled her into a bone-crushing, boa-constrictor hug.

When she broke free, her eyes met Shelton's. He smiled faintly, and she smiled back. Her eyes turned pink.

But there wasn't time to figure out what that meant.

They had a battle to fight.

* * *

Rachel was alone in the office when the attack came.

One woman, no matter how bloodthirsty and efficient, was no match for a dozen rabid Night Valeans with a grudge, guns, a battleaxe, and several heavy books.

The doors behind her pulsed with a great and terrible power.

She shouldn't go through them.

She shouldn't.

She was about to die.

She went through.

The Smiling God had had its sacrifice, claimed another soul.

And the Old Oak Doors sealed themselves.

For a moment there was no reaction. _Well, that was an anticlimax_, thought Tamika as she stared at the place her enemy had stood.

Then two of the Scouts and a Book Club member ran from the room to spread the word. Others followed.

(Roger Harlan tried to give Tamika a celebratory kiss and she punched him in the stomach, because there wasn't much of a glorious victory to celebrate and she'd never liked the kid much.)

Finn sank to the ground, unnoticed, and put their head in their hands.

Bianca should have been there to share this.

But she wasn't.

* * *

No-one noticed until much, much later, when Station Management had been rounded up and the StrexCorp building had been blown to kingdom come, that one of the great yellow helicopters with the murals on the sides depicting birds of prey was missing.

So too were Diego and Kevin.


	12. Epilogue

**Thanks for sticking with me! Especially to daughterofnemesis, thelastsarahbender, interstellarroadkill, kelphead2, and the wonderful ViralsInASouffleNut!**

**My future plans include that SPN nexgen (at some point) and at least 2 Marauders fics (both Wolfstar and Jily). So yeah, stay tuned!**

* * *

In twenty-four hours Intern Haneet had gone from The Chosen One, True Heir Of The Voice Of Night Vale (or whatever bullshit they were all calling her nowadays) to a member of the cleanup crew, shovelling 90% of gore up off the streets (because after all, existence is a terrifying thing; how can anyone reasonably be expected to remove _all_ human body parts from the average street?)

She didn't really mind. Sometimes, it was nice to _not_ have action, and to _not_ be the triocular voice on the radio. (These days, she could open the tried eye without the crippling cranial pain she had experienced that first day in the sand wastes.)

She wished the Virals would be staying to help her, but they had their own lives to go back to. Night Valean time was weird - there was a strong chance they'd return to a world that had only aged a few days instead of the extensive period the five had been in the city. There was also a pretty strong chance they'd return to a world decades older than when they'd left it, but hey, that's the risk you take with an inconsistent non-linear quantity such as time.

"Are you _sure_ you don't need our help tracking down Diego?" Tory asked for the eighth time.

"This isn't your concern anymore, Tory," Dana replied. "None of you."

Diego had disappeared, taking Kevin with them. The battle was won, but the war would continue for as long as they were still at large. Kevin still had his voice, his ability to manipulate people, and Diego would find a way to reopen the Old Oak Doors and let that terrible light back into our dimension, and into somewhere far less capable of withstanding it than Night Vale.

But this wasn't the time to dwell on that.

The five interlopers wished Haneet the best of luck, and she got the opportunity to kick Hiram in the nuts when he called her 'Han Solo'.

As Shelton turned away, she grabbed his arm.

"I'm gonna miss you."

"Me too." He shifted uncomfortably, and she fixed pinkish-violet eyes on her bloodied shoes. "Han, I...I like you. A lot. I think."

"I know."

Shelton turned to look at his pack. "Han Dhillon just Han Solo'd me."

Hi smirked. Han pulled a face as Ella rolled her eyes. It was different than before, though; softer and more affectionate. Something had changed between her and Hi.

The same shifts had occurred with every other couple Han knew. Nothing like almost losing people to make you realise just how important they really are to you.

Some people had come out of the fight worse than others. Finn had emerged quieter, more withdrawn. Within a few weeks they'd quit the book club and enlisted in the Sherriff's Secret Police. Although SSP assignments are kept away from the general populace, it was generally assumed they were a part of the task force in charge of finding Diego.

It wouldn't bring Bianca back, but maybe they could avenge her death.

But people change. Perhaps someday Night Vale would truly heal. And perhaps someday the danger would pass. And maybe the Virals would return someday.

And maybe Haneet Dhillon would be the one to report it.

* * *

Ten years later...

"_And that, dear Listeners, is your yearly reminder that my name is Haneet, not Cecelia. Whoever started calling me that, please desist before I actually kill you. Because I could do that. Just FYI. [There is a muffled sound in the background] Aw, crap. Listeners, it appears Intern Kirsten is now trapped in the mirror universe. I always knew there was a reason Cecil left those things covered. I should probably go take care of this. I'll be back right after the weather..."_

**Her Name Is Alice - **_**Shinedown**_

**Boulevard Of Broken Dreams - **_**Green Day**_

**Sing - **_**My Chemical Romance**_

**Alpha Dog **_**\- Fall Out Boy**_

**Radioactive **_**\- Imagine Dragons**_

**One For The Radio - **_**McFly**_

**The Final Countdown - **_**Europe**_

**The Bitter End**_** \- Placebo**_

**Human - **_**The Killers**_


End file.
